I wanna write more fics, so I’m opening requests in case anyone has ideas they wanna see written.
I mainly write character x reader fics, but I can do character x oc fics too.
I will only write oneshots or short multi-chapter fics. I am only focusing on my own long multi-chapter fics.
I write for female and gender neutral readers, but as I’m AFAB myself I don’t feel knowledgeable enough to write male readers.
I can write either platonic or romantic fics.
I will write SFW and NSFW, but I won’t write anything that I feel uncomfortable with, such as inc*st, non-con, etc. Please message me if you’re not sure about something you want to request.
Here are the fandoms and characters I write for:
Star Wars
Any Clones (including OCs). My favourite clones to write are Wolffe, Rex, Gregor, Fives, Echo, Howzer, and Crosshair.
Amidst the shadows of betrayal and loyalty, one rebel medic must navigate fractured bonds in the heart of the Empire's darkness.
Fandom: Star Wars, The Bad Batch
Pairing: Wolffe x Reader
Content: Angst as the reader briefly reunites with Wolffe on Teth
Warnings: Spoilers for TBB S3ep06+07
Word Count: 2,978
A/N: I watched the episode, cried, then spent all my time writing this. Also, I couldn't help but have Gregor simp for the reader in this one. Art in divider is by lornaka.
Sitting around the grey flexsteel table, laughter danced around you, as soft giggles spilled from your lips. Your eyes closed briefly as your cheeks rose, a toothy grin wide across your face in a way that made each corner hurt. Across from you was the other source of joyful sounds, in his worn, white plastoid commando armour. His features were spread into a similar grin, crow's feet crinkled about his chestnut brown eyes that glinted in the artificial light of the ship’s interior, and the worn lines upon his tan skin stretched about his smile. A small, stray strand on his dark, slicked-back hair had fallen out of place, which he brushed back into place with a quick swipe of his gloved hand.
As you calmed your laughs, you shifted your hand to take hold of your cup of caf that sat on the table in front of you, the earthy smell of it curling in your nose as you inhaled. Before taking a sip of it, you tilted your head towards the clone opposite you as he rubbed the side of his face, trying to calm his laughter that was greater than yours.
“As soon as we land, I’m going to go get Nemec to confirm that, Gregor,” you teased him softly, to which the clone burst into another bout of laughter.
“You don’t trust me?” Gregor cooed as his laughs subsided again, pointing an accusatory finger at you. It wasn’t serious though, the lop-sided smirk on his face making it evident.
You rolled your eyes softly, placing your hand around the warm cup and lifting it to take a sip. The caf inside tasted too dry and was bitter on your tongue. Yet, you focused on Gregor, paying the poor taste of the caf little mind. “That mission was wild, I need to hear Nemec’s account. I believe you… but, maker, I need to hear more.”
Gregor chuckled softly at that, raising his cup of caf to his lips as you spoke. Yet, you noticed his dark chestnut hues shift from looking at you, moving to looking at the stairs towards the cockpit. The heavy sound of metal prosthetic legs, slightly muted by boots, traveled down to the table. In the doorway, Echo emerged, his pallid features holding a sense of alarm. He cut to the chase, his caramel eyes settling upon both you and Gregor as he spoke.
“Rex commed. Imperials have discovered the base at the spire. They need extracting, ASAP. We’re about five parsecs away.”
You flicked your eyes back to Gregor, whose dark eyes had now hardened with solemnity. There was an unspoken understanding between you three. Your voice vocalized before you even registered it, holding an almost emotionless tone to it.
“Affirmative.”
You pushed yourself from your chair as Gregor simultaneously stood. You all knew what needed to be done, no orders were needed. That’s how this little group of rebels worked, efficiently like a well-oiled droid; not like the Separatist clankers, but like the whirring of a reliable R-series astromech.
Gregor shifted past you on your right, raising a hand to place gently on your shoulder. His digits gave a gentle, but brief squeeze before departing, a small gesture of reassurance. It was all you needed to push yourself forward, to walk down the familiar corridors of the ship towards the medbay.
Once in the dark room, surrounded by dim blue hues and softly blinking lights of green, red, white, and blue, you didn’t need to turn on the main light to navigate about; you knew this place like the back of your hand. You had transitioned from a medcenter medic to a field medic for the clone rebels, and this place was now as close to a home as you could probably get. You missed your life before, at the medcenter, but here, in this dim room, it was easy to put away the memories, the good and the bad, and be enveloped in the blanket of shadows and low light.
As you sought for your medical bag, fingers grazing against the embroidered section of the fabric, a memory surfaced.
“It’s a gift, for helping with… well, everything.”
Wolffe’s voice echoed in your mind as if he was there. He’d stood before you, a small bundle in his outstretched hand. It was wrapped rather poorly, the edges of the paper coming unfolded as it sat there, as if the commander either hadn’t bothered to find an adhesive, or he simply couldn’t find one. It seemed too awkward for him, in a way, and that was coming from the person who’d been there for… well, everything. At least from the moment he’d arrived, fresh red scar and painfully burnt eye from a lightsaber wound. There had certainly been some awkward moments in his recovery, but somehow, it was not as awkward as this moment. Perhaps, because for once, Wolffe was the one giving, and neither of you was used to it. You’d taken the gift, fingers pulling at the paper to unveil an embroidered patch in the middle, the symbol of the Wolfpack in the middle. “I want you to be an honorary member of the Wolfpack,” Wolffe had explained, still rather awkwardly. At the time, you didn’t know why, but when you went home, to sew the patch to your medpack bag, you’d found his comm details written in the paper wrapping too. That moment felt like a lifetime ago. All memories of Wolffe did. You had been so close. So close, that you’d almost admitted to him that you loved him. But that never came to pass. The world as you knew it shattered, and you had to rebuild. The medbay you currently knelt in was a testament to that.
A sigh, heavy and warped with longing, passed from your lips, falling into the air of the dark room. You had to focus; Rex, Nemec, Fireball, and Howzer were relying on you for the extraction, and you needed to be ready in case anyone was harmed… which was inevitable. Hopefully, all injuries would be minor. Pushing the past where it belonged, in the past and away from your conscious thought, you grabbed the medpack, pulling the straps over your shoulders. No time to dawdle. You stood straight, pack weighing on your shoulders, and you navigated the hallways the way you had just walked, back to the mess room, and then further, up the stairs to the cockpit.
At the very front was Echo, facing ahead as the blue streaks of light shot by like endless blaster bolts. A few seats back sat Gregor, leaning forward with arms crossed over his knees. Both sat in silence; apprehension hung in the air, the deep breath before plunging into conflict, something both clones were used to. You certainly weren’t, yet you were not one to let the unease overwhelm you. Taking a few steps forward, you plant yourself in the leather of the chair opposite Gregor, your voice cutting through the silence.
“How long until we get there?”
Echo tilted his head back slightly, the caramel hues of his irises glinting in the light of hyperspace, coming in from the viewports. “Another couple of minutes. Rex and the boys will need to hold on until then.”
Gregor’s voice quickly cut in after Echo finished his sentence, drawing your attention to him. He’d swiveled his chair to face you, having grabbed something from the small side sill at the edge of the cockpit. “Here, take this blaster,” Gregor extended his hand out, holding a DC-17 hand blaster to you. “Not sure if we’ll have to fight. Be safe than sorry.” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, momentarily going higher pitch before lowering to his usual pitch. After the voice cracks, a small burst of nervous laughter escaped the clone. It was not long ago that you and Gregor shared humorous laughter, and now all that joy had dissipated. You leaned forward, outstretching your arm to take the blaster from Gregor’s hand. Your fingers curled around the weapon and softly brushed Gregor’s hand, warm still through the gloves. As you pulled the blaster back to rest on your lap, Gregor offered you a small, yet warm smile, sincerity glinting in his eyes, wordlessly telling you not to worry.
At the console, Echo moved to pull the ship out of hyperspace. The streaking lights of passing stars shortened, congealing into pin-prick dots of light. Outside the transparisteel before you, the looming, dark shape of Teth emerged. As you got closer, you spied a bright white light at the location, and Echo deftly moved to send an alert to Rex that you were inbound. Gregor stood, leaning over one of the chairs closer to the console, and so you joined him, to get a better look at the scene. You saw a line of Imperial soldiers - you couldn’t quite make out their armor from here. Huddled before them, alert yet holding fire was Rex and the others… A glance over them showed you easily that some were missing - who you didn’t know. Blasted Imperials, you always lost good clones to them. What surprised you was that they didn’t try anything against the ship.
You pushed yourself to stand from your chair, and Gregor nodded to you, standing up straight himself. Echo swung the ship around for easy access to Rex and the others, and quickly you and Gregor sprinted down the halls towards the door. You gripped the blaster tight in your hand. If it came to blows, you were ready to take down a few of the Empire’s men in exchange for the missing troopers. With a swoosh, the door lowered, spilling white light from your ship against the bright spotlights of the Imperial ship. Before you stood the shadowy figures of both your men and the Imperials. It took you a moment for your eyes to adjust upon those who stood there. You looked to your troopers first - only Rex and Howzer remained, the rest were the Bad Batch, with their child and pet. Nemec… Fireball… Both of them were gone.
Anger surged through you, and you raised your gaze to glare at the leader of the Imperial troopers, intent on giving him the most venomous stare you could muster. Yet, as the details of the man were revealed to you, a crack suddenly shattered your heart in half. The blaster in your hand fell slack as you just stared… The one behind this, who’d allowed the deaths of Nemec, Fireball, and the others, was none other than the man you loved. Wolffe.
Beside him, the clone commando eased forward slightly, yet Wolffe raised his arm to tell the trooper, his voice quiet yet rumbling in a commanding tone, “Stand down.” You just about heard it, although his actions spoke louder than his words at that moment. He was going to let you all go, despite likely being ordered to take down your group. Before you, Rex nodded his head with respect for the commander. They were brothers, and loyal to each other even if they fought on opposite sides. That loyalty gave you hope, sparking up inside your chest where the ruins of your heart now lay cracked, perhaps to mend and bond that wound taken to it.
The Bad Batch, followed by Howzer, moved quickly back up to the ship, and Rex himself turned his back to Wolffe. With them, everything had been said and done, but you… You didn’t quite understand. Wolffe was disobeying the Empire at this moment, but he appeared to still be staying with them. You stepped forward down the ramp, brushing past the lanky figure of Crosshair, onto the rocky ground below. Wolffe’s gaze shifted from the turning figure of Rex towards where you stepped, pushing past those retreating in an almost defiant manner. Your eyes met, and the firm expression of the Commander shifted. His eyes widened in surprise, his lips parting softly; his left, natural eye with its caramel hues seemed vulnerable at that moment. Standing opposed to his brothers was different from standing opposed to the person he’d loved. Looking at him, you saw that too awkward stance again, echoing the past when he first truly opened up to you. There was hope, yet this was not a moment, or even such a thing, to be easily navigated. Not with the troopers at Wolffe’s back, and the Empire too. Not with your ship, your group of rebels about to depart. It wasn’t even as easy as giving commlink details on a crumpled piece of paper.
Rex’s hand met your shoulder as he stopped by you. It was hard to break away from Wolffe’s gaze, but you did. The look on Rex’s face told you everything you needed to know. That pair of amber eyes showed understanding, but an urgency, that nothing could be done now, and it was time to move on. You nodded your head slightly, your gaze meeting Wolffe’s, which had shifted to a more guarded look. There was still a hint of uncertainty in his singular natural eye, but his cybernetic one seemed dull and void. All you could do was offer the commander a nod, not unlike the one that had been shared with Rex, but this one told him that you’d be back, and that you’d both be able to reunite someday. Rex’s hand slipped from your shoulder, and with that, you too turned around. The captain allowed you to slip ahead of him so that he could secure safety as you finished boarding.
The steps onto the ship were hard, but you knew that this was not the last time you would see Wolffe. You did not dare look back, for if you did, you feared you’d lose your composure. Yet, thankfully, as you stepped back onto the firm flooring of the ship, you were surrounded by the clones that had supported you during this new reign of the Empire; Rex at your back, Gregor at your side, and Howzer at the front. The ramp raised and the door swooshed shut, leaving you standing there. The Bad Batch lingered around you too, and in that moment, you wished for them to be gone, to leave you with the ones you trusted, but you knew Echo would scold you for that, as they were his squad too. The conflict was evident on your face, it must be, because the pet of the Bad Batch snuffled its nose and came up to you, sniffing at you and rubbing against your legs in a friendly way. The child smiled at you, “Batcher’s just saying hi, don’t worry.” She seemed to have mistaken your expression for a reaction to the animal. It eased your mind a little, and you gave the kid a smile in response.
Rex shifted, stepping around you, and he headed over to the doorway that led to the corridor through the ship, “Come on, let’s settle down and… well… that was a lot. We all need some rest.” The largest clone in the Bad Batch, Wrecker, heartily agreed, followed by the child, then Hunter and the slinking Crosshair. There was no use in lingering here yourself, so you made your way down the corridor after them. In that walk, you realized that you felt as though part of you was missing, like there was a hole in your heart. It seemed that when it cracked when you saw Wolffe with the Empire, a part of it fell and was now left with him. You really would have to go back for it.
Once the ship was traveling at hyperspeed once more, and the Bad Batch was settled down in the cockpit with Echo, you found yourself sitting around that same table you’d been sitting at with Gregor before this all occurred. This time, you sat right next to Gregor, instead of opposite him, and Howzer sat in the chair you had occupied. Rex was standing to the side, stirring some sweetener into his cup of caf. Surrounded by your little mismatched squad, you finally felt able to breathe and to speak. Letting out a sigh, you voiced that which you’d been dying to say since you saw the commander. “I can’t believe Wolffe sided with the Empire.” Gregor shifted slightly, wordlessly putting a hand on your shoulder. These few clones were the ones that knew about your connection to Wolffe, so you felt safe to speak of it here.
Rex turned his head slightly, looking at you with his amber gaze, holding sincerity within it. “Wolffe doesn’t seem to know everything the Empire’s done. He’s likely still under the influence of the chip. But, like with all of us, he did show signs of resistance.”
Howzer added to Rex’s comment, shoving a thumb in the direction of the cockpit, “If Crosshair can be redeemed, then Commander Wolffe can too. That clone showed that he truly had changed today… and I still almost find it hard to believe, even though I saw it with my own eyes. If that can be done, then getting Wolffe to see sense would be like a sandstorm on Geonosis - inevitable.”
The missing clones from your gathering came to mind though, and you frowned, “But… Fireball… Nemec… Wolffe didn’t-”
“Actually,” Rex cut you off, “They were firing at us with stun rounds. There was one of those shadow troopers after us… That was who got Fireball and Nemec. Wolffe’s men appeared to be ordered to take us down with stun rounds.”
You exhaled softly. Wolffe was still loyal to his brothers, even those who fought against him, that was clear. There was no reason to lose hope, even under the dark rule of the Empire. It gave you purpose too; to keep fighting until Wolffe was finally by your side once more.
Wolffe is back in TBB S3 so have a snippet from a WIP that’s been sitting in my files for probably a year now.
It’s Wolffe x reader fic, with a little drama focused around Fives having a crush on reader. Wolffe, of course, is protective of his significant other…
Many emotions rest upon Wolffe’s features. Shock. Frustration. Amusement. Love. Quite the eclectic mix. It made sense, considering what you just told him.
“You think Fives wants to kriff you…? And you only thought to tell me now? An hour before we go to 79s… where there will almost certainly be an inebriated Fives. Karking hell.”
As he finishes with such an exclamation, the clone before you closes his eyes momentarily, crows feet emerging. He ran a rough, calloused hand down the side of his face, scratching against the faint emergence of stubble upon his jaw. You offered Wolffe a sheepish smile, a flush of red embarrassment colouring your cheeks. You couldn’t help it, not with that tone to his voice. It was stern, in that deep distinct rumble of his that holds an ever so slightly frustrated lilt to it. It made you listen attentively, sparks coursing through your body from head to toe. It made you want to obey his every single word. Obviously you would; you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Wolffe carried on, the amber glow of his irises focused on you. “We need to set up measures… To keep him away from you.” There was a possessive curl to his voice as he finished speaking, and his nose wrinkled up as the thought of Fives getting near you, in any sort of intimate manner, revolted him. You quickly agreed with him, nodding your head lowly, still ashamed that you’d let the situation spiral into this in the first place. Wolffe’s rough fingertips brushed your chin suddenly, pressing into your flesh to angle your line of sight to meet his dead on. His caramel hues held a deep tenderness, regarding you with nothing but complete and utter adoration. “Mesh’la,” he murmured, voice a low rumble, “It’s not your fault.” His words settle into your chest, wrapping a warm blanket around your insecurities. His arm wrapped around you also, physically surrounding you with the coziness of his presence. After placing a gentle kiss atop the crown of your head, Wolffe continued to speak, his words further soothing your disgruntled soul, “I won’t let anything happen to you, ner cyare. You’re mine and I swear I’ll protect you, if Fives or anyone else tries it with you.”
this event will take place on Feburary 24 & 25, 2024
Day One: No-Tell Motel // Soulmates AU
Day Two: Amusement Park // Roommates AU // Free Day
you can use one prompt for each day or combine them! i added a free day onto day two for anyone that wants to participate, but doesn't like the prompts i chose 💗
this is meant to be a fun event!! please do not stress out if you don't create anything in time💗whether you write 15 words or 15k, i'm sure everyone would love to see them!
Fandom: Star Wars, but where Fives was listened to, Palpatine is gone and the Republic is winning the war once and for all.
Pairing: Fives x Reader, unrequited Crosshair x Reader
Content: Angst and a little bit of fluff.
Warnings: Mentions of blood.
Word Count: 1642
A/N: Mando'a translations are 'mesh'la' = beautiful, and 'ner kar'ta' = my love. I wrote this in an evening so it's rather messy, but I've had this idea on my mind for a couple of days and actually wrote it for once.
When he hears that the 501st are on shore leave too, Crosshair bristles. All he wants is some quality time away from the front lines with you, and now he knows that his chance is squandered. Whilst you had been working with Clone Force 99 since Echo joined, as his personal medic (keeping his biomechanics running smooth, as well as helping with the trauma of Skako Minor), you were previously assigned with the 501st. That meant that you were going to meet up with Troopers that you had once served with and Crosshair would be deprived of your presence. He tried to push down his annoyance at the fact, but the sniper barely lasted an hour pretending to be fine. The grumpiness of his amplified over the days before their shore leave, culminating to the present moment: sitting with his brothers in a booth at 79s, brooding over a glass of whiskey and staring daggers into the table surface.
The music around the bar pulsed with energy, the floor filled with various clones who were moving with the steady beat – either with each other or with a nat-born who’d taken interest. Some clones still wore their plastoid, some wore their blacks, or a mix of the two. Some clones even wore civ clothes, although it was somewhat rare. Most of the colour adorned by the clones here tonight was, of course, blue. Too much blue, Crosshair thought to himself as his eyes shifted over the crowd, looking for you.
It took him a while to find you, for you and those you were currently with were hidden by the throng. By then he saw you; the first glimpse he saw was of you with a wide grin spread across your features, eyes crinkled slightly, laughing at something one of the clones around you said. There are three of them with you, Crosshair identifies. Two of them are bald and tattooed, the other with slicked back hair, a vaguely anchor shaped beard, and a tattoo upon his temple. Crosshair narrowed his eyes to get a better look at the tattoos. Bald Trooper No.1 has blue lines wrapping around his scalp and onto his face; he is dancing near you, shimmying quickly and with no rhythm. The sniper actually recognised Bald Trooper No.2: Jesse. He was on Anaxes and they had a mutual dislike of each other, making Crosshair wrinkle his nose as he observes the close proximity of the clone to you… Even if Jesse is laughing at Bald Trooper No.1 and now seeking to playfully tackle him. However, Crosshair’s distaste at Jesse’s presence quickly diminishes as Bearded Trooper wraps his arm around your shoulders, turning his head to reveal his tattoo in greater detail to Crosshair – an aurbesh five. He knew this clone too, but had met him only briefly after the rescue of Echo, for he was his batch-mate, Fives…
The ARC Trooper with aurbesh tattoo looks down at you, a toothy smirk spreading across his features. His honey hued irises sparkle in the throbbing lights and you realise as your eyes lock that you have missed this man so much.
Before being assigned to the Bad Batch, before the rescue of Echo, you had served with the 501st. You got on with all of them, Rex, Jesse, Tup, Hardcase, Kix, and even Dogma, who was a little hard to like at times. But Fives… On your first day with the legion, and after being introduced to Rex’s squad as their non-combat doctor, Fives had come up to you with that smirk of his and hit you with the cheesiest pick-up line you’d ever heard. Yet, you still blushed. Not because of the line, but because of the one who’d delivered it. From then on, you’d harboured a small crush on the ARC Trooper, who flirted with you any chance he got. He visited your medbay upon the Resolute often – most clones tended to stay away, save for their regular health check-ups, but Fives seemed to like the place more than Kix. It was through these visits that you began to get an inkling that you were not the only with a slight infatuation. It lead to the moment, in the middle of Fives’ routine health check after some time in the front line, where you both ended up acting on those feelings towards each other. From then on, the pair of you had been together, in secret, not because of some rule against clones and nat-borns being together, but due to violating the rules of the workplace. Yet, now that you served with the Bad Batch, not with Fives and the 501st, it was becoming more and more tempting to be not so secret about your relationship.
That is why, as you look into Fives’ eyes, his arm about your shoulders, you decide to raise a hand to loop around to the back of his head, your fingers slipping between his brunet locks. He raises a brow slightly, although as his eyes become hooded it is clear that he is having similar thoughts to yours.
“Mesh’la,” he mutters in his deep baritone, “I don’t want to keep this secret anymore.”
“Fives… Neither do I.”
In that moment, Fives pulls you in for a kiss, his lips encompassing yours softly. In that moment too, you hear the smashing of glass. You break away from Fives, who groans with frustration, yet too looks towards the source of the noise. You both expect it to be nothing much, maybe overly drunk patrons. It’s not nothing, as the table where your current squad sits is now in disarray and a certain member of Clone Force 99 is staring deadly daggers at Fives. The said clone makes an awkward sound in confusion, eyes flicking towards you with a hint of panic within them as he whispers in your ear, “Ner kar’ta, why is he glaring at me?”
You shake your head slightly, partially in disbelief, but also to indicate to Fives that you don’t know. “He’s usually grumpy, but I’ve never seen him like… this. Let me deal with this.”
As you talk with Fives, Crosshair is swiftly stomping over. Before Fives gets a chance to respond to you, a fist lands directly in the side of his nose, causing him to stumble and nearly pull you over with him. You untangle yourself from Fives, seeing red in the corners of your eyes as you turn to face the assailant, Crosshair. He looks enraged. However, your expression gives him a run for his credits.
“Crosshair! What the kriff was that?!” The entirety of the bar has their eyes on you as you shout, many of the 501st in the bar moving to gather around. Jesse and Hardcase, who were with you in the moments before the incident, have stepped in to check on Fives, who is holding his nose that gushes with his own crimson blood. Rex, who was sitting with the Commanders, has stood up and approached slowly, ready to step in to be the mediator, and alongside him is Cody too, the pair ready to work the dynamic duo as always. Kix is currently pushing his way through the crowd towards you as well, seeming to go full combat medic mode at the commotion. The Bad Batch have reacted too, all slightly differently. Wrecker has leapt from his seat, ready to fight. Echo has quickly moved to grab the oversized clone, and Hunter too has stopped his brother from starting a whirlwind of chaos, although seems to be more relaxed about potentially letting Wrecker off the leash if there is good reason to. Tech still sits in the back of the booth, awkwardly looking over his datapad at the situation. All of them wait, however, to see how Crosshair responds.
The silver haired sniper hisses an exhale, before snarling his words, “The reg kissed you!”
In your eyes, it is a pretty poor excuse. “So?!” You call out, your anger bubbling up with the increasing heat.
Crosshair narrows his eyes, taken aback by the question, yet this time he has a better response, spoken quietly this time, his words now laced with venom, “It looks like you’re being taken advantage of…”
If you hadn’t been drinking then maybe you would have said something better, but what comes out of you is spat that the sniper with frustration at his apparent blunder.
“I’m dating Fives, I ain’t being kriffing taken advantage of!”
Crosshair’s expression falls for a moment, a look of abject horror upon his features. Yet it disappears as quickly as it appears. He seems done, done with everything now. Turning around, to head towards the exit of the bar, he growls, “Kriff you…” He leaves then, storming out. Hunter drags Wrecker along with him after their brother, whilst Echo lets go to rush across to you and Fives, whose nose is now clogged up with napkins from the bar to stop the bleeding.
It is as Echo comes towards you and Crosshair steps out the door of the bar that the realisation of what truly happened hits you. All those around you disappear as your entire focus turns to Fives. You rush over towards him, the shouts of the clones about you trying to disperse the crowd falling on deaf ears as you throw yourself against Fives, wrapping your arms around him.
“I’m sorry, Fives-“
“Ssssh, ner kar’ta, not your fault. He was just jealous.” Fives wraps his arms about you, engulfing you in his warmth and comfort, placing a gentle kiss atop the crown of your head.
Meanwhile, Crosshair storms away from 79s and into the night of Coruscant, he realises that he will always be jealous in regard to you. Jealous because you are the one thing he cannot have, for Fives has already claimed you.
Fandom: Star Wars, but where Palpatine got shanked so everyone lives happily ever after.
Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader.
Content: A LOT of fluff; reader introducing Rex to Life Day; Rex and reader being cutely stupid; socks.
Warnings: Smoochies; some parts that could insinuate doing the dirty, it's up to you.
Word Count: 2691
A/N: This was initially supposed to be one part, but I wrote much more than I expected for the Life Day prep. Hoping to have part 2 up by 26th!
The war had been tough on you and your partner, Rex. That is why, now that the war is over, you were both stoked for your first Life Day together. You were, of course, excited, but, as a natborn, this is not your first Life Day. In comparison to you, Rex is ecstatic. Not only would this Life Day be your first together, but it would be Rex’s first ever Life Day. You were enthusiastic towards giving Rex the best first Life Day you possibly could, but you didn’t expect your usually serious significant other to share your sentiment.
You and Rex had sat down at the start of the holiday season to decide what to do. Tentatively you’d shown him a list of possible activities, from the standard gift giving, to decorating cookies, to ice-skating. The way, much to your astonishment, that the ochre hues of his eyes had glimmered with an almost child-like glee told you that you really had to make this the best first Life Day ever, and not only for him. Rex had quickly asked you if some of his brothers could join your Life Day celebration and it was impossible to refuse, knowing that his brothers too had not celebrated Life Day before.
Thus, you both set about solidifying your plans. You’d marked the morning hours as a gentle wake up and more intimate gift-sharing time between you and Rex. He’d agreed to that easily, a soft smile on his face that caused his dimples to emerge, which you had in the moment gently pressed kisses to. After a little break in your planning to show each other a little love, you’d then tried to focus on the planning for the rest of your Life Day.
At 1000, you’d both decided, would be the best time to meet up with Rex’s brothers. Who to invite became the next issue. Your apartment and wherever you visited would only be able to hold a certain amount of clones. You’d thought it best to spend the morning doing an activity with more space, so more of Rex’s brothers could share in the festive spirit, before then returning to your apartment with a selection of Rex’s closest brothers for Life Day dinner and some more gift giving.
It was hard to find a place large enough to invite as many clones as you wanted and both you and Rex both agreed that it would be a kriffing terrible idea to use the GAR base for celebrations. Thankfully, after nearly an hour of searching, you found somewhere suitable. Surprisingly well hidden away on the holonet, you’d found out that there was an indoor ice-rink set up in the Hasamadhi Warehouse District of all places. It was in close proximity to the Coruscant Underworld and you were wary of unsavoury folks coming along to ruin your Life Day celebrations. Rex had assured you that if that did happen, he would be by your side to protect you, and his brothers would be happy to fend off any thugs. Feeling more confident after Rex’s reassurances, you’d commed the owner and, by some chance luck, managed to book the entire rink for yourself for two hours. It was shaping up to be perfect.
You’d let Rex figure out a list of the brothers he wanted to invite whilst you searched for the rink. When you’d passed your gaze to him, he’d been sitting slightly hunched over on the couch next to you, his brow furrowed, causing soft wrinkles to emerge on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. You’d even noticed, on occasion, the pink shade of his tongue slightly poking out, a habit of Rex’s when he was so incredibly focused. After you’d finished up booking the rink, Rex had showed you the list of brothers he wanted to invite and so you’d set about comming them all invitations together.
The first batch of invites was to some of the 212th boys, namely Cody, Waxer, Boil, Crys, Wooley, and Gregor. Then invites were sent out to the 104th - Wolffe and his Wolfpack. Tentatively, you’d then sent out invites to the notorious Bad Batch, even if you weren’t sure they accept the invitation. The only reason you sent it is because of Echo, as Rex wanted him there even though he was no longer 501st. Then, of course, you had to invite the Coruscant Guard, or at least those who may be available during the holiday; so you expected Fox and maybe Hound to be the only ones to show up. You’d also sent out invites to the commanders that Rex knew well, such as Bacara, Bly, and Gree. After hearing that they were on shore leave, Rex had also invited some of the clone naval officers that served upon the bridge of the Resolute, although you didn’t know them personally. Finally, of course, there were the 501st lads: Fives, Jesse, Hardcase, Tup, Kix, Appo, Vaughn, Hawk, Denal and Dogma. Overall, there were nearly 40 invites sent out and by the end of it all, Rex was brimming with excitement. From there, Rex then sent out invites for the more private Life Day dinner, whilst you set about planning the food for such.
You’d written out a neat little list of the food you’d need to make and prepare:
Snacks:
Millaflower Toast
Kebroot Parcels
Crab Puffs
Saava Snacks
Main:
Eopie Roast with Wawaatt Sprouts and Brub Berry Sauce
Dessert:
Jelly Life Day Orbs
Wasaka Berry Pudding
Drinks:
Mudhorn Eggnog
Wroshyr Sap Cider
Joh Blastoh Punch
Kyyyalstaad Fizz
Keshian Spiced Milk
Bantha Milk Hot Chocolate
Rex had looked over the list and had asked you if it was too much. You’d raised a brow, as his brothers definitely had the stomachs for all that. He’d laughed so sweetly, before cupping your cheeks with his large, calloused hands and asking if it was too much for you to make, as he didn’t want you to be overly stressed with all the food and drink preparation. It warmed your heart, and so you reassured him that you’d make time to prepare what you could before the day and that Rex could help you if he wanted, which you knew he wasn’t going to turn down.
From there, you just had to wait and prepare in the days leading up to Life Day. The first thing that had happened was Rex receiving a comm from Echo, asking if the Bad Batch could bring someone along that hadn’t been invited. Curious and a little wary, Rex asked who they wanted to bring. The response had surprised you both. Apparently the Bad Batch had unofficially adopted a kid. You couldn’t forget the confusion upon Rex’s features as he leant against the counter of your kitchen and stared at his commlink for at least a minute as he tried to figure how how the Bad Batch had managed to acquire a child. You’d tried to capture the moment by taking a holograph on your datapad, but Rex had noticed and ruined the shot by suddenly rushing to you and yanking your datapad from your hands. After becoming satisfied that you hadn’t taken any embarrassing pictures of him, Rex had wrapped his broad, muscular arms around you and placed a caring kiss atop your forehead. He’d gone in for another kiss, upon your lips, but you’d poked him in the ribs, reminding him to respond to Echo before he got entirely distracted by you.
The next preparations you had to make were the gifts. It was quite amusing the way you and Rex danced around, trying to hide the gifts you got for each other. You couldn’t wait to give Rex his, as you’d spent quite some time making sure each gift was special and personal, rather than something standard and store bought.
Aside from gifts for each other, Rex wanted to get gifts for his closet brothers, and so did you. So, together, you set out to Coruscant’s CoCo Town to go gift shopping. It was such a mundane task, so domestic, and it made your insides feel soft and sweet that you were the only one that had ever spent time with Rex like this. You’d walked store to store hand in hand, at least until you’d managed to buy enough gifts for the both of you to have to carry the bags in both hands. Rex’s brothers were certainly going to be spoiled this Life Day. They deserved to be spoiled after all they did during the war.
Getting back to your apartment with all the gifts had been quite the debacle. You’d had to tie the bags down to the speeder you both rode. Rex ended up using some of his military expertise to use some rope to tie the gifts on to the speeder, not to dissimilar to carrying supplies during the war. A smile had graced your lips as you handed Rex each bag when needed, as he knelt down by the speeder with the golden skin of his brow furrowed in thought as he completed the puzzle. After nearly half an hour, Rex had got it all secured, so you hopped on behind him, on the speeder, and wrapped your arms snugly around his waist. You always loved speeder rides with Rex, as you always were pressed against him, holding him tight as he drove you around the city. This ride was made even more special by the fact that it was Life Day season. Colourful paper lanterns, of shades of green, red, blue and yellow, hung between buildings. Around lightposts sparkling lights of many colours shone, and here and there red and green garlands hung in the shape of leaves and berries. Inside passing windows of the colossal Coruscant buildings you were able to catch glimpses of personal life day decorations: holo-trees, snowflakes and lights. You’d pressed your cheek against Rex’s back and watched it all pass by. Seeing such beautiful festive sights really brought up your Life Day spirits.
Back home, at your apartment, you found yourself swamped by gifts and wrapping paper. Rex was looking a bit overwhelmed at having to wrap everything, so you’d reassured him that you’d work through it methodically together. First to wrap were the medium, standard box shaped gifts, or at least gifts put in a box, as they were by far the easiest to wrap. In this section, you had wrapped a pair of new shoes for Fives; a box of Cody’s favourite candy; a set of fancy Sabacc cards for Fox; a puzzle cube for Echo; a portable datapad charger for Jesse; a selection of scented soaps for Hardcase; a vibroknife engraved with the Wolfpack’s lothwolf symbol for Wolffe. Then were the more difficult to wrap gifts. First, a new medic pack for Kix, then a leather haircare pouch for Tup, a new blaster holster for Appo, a caf mug for Vaughn and a model kit for a LAAT/i for Hawk. Knowing that Echo was bringing a kid, you’d also bought a gift for them. A clone trooper plushie, although you modified it to be a bit more personal.
After the main gifts were wrapped, there was the rather regrettable decision you and Rex made to wrap. In some kind of Life Day lapse of judgment, you’d both decided to buy socks for all of Rex’s brothers that were coming to the ice-rink. The socks were white or grey, with stripes to match the troopers’ armour. So the 501st boys got white and blue socks, the Bad Batch got grey and red socks, the 212th got white and orange, and so on. It was a good idea until you and Rex had to individually wrap each pair, nearly 40 in total. With the pile of socks looming, you’d decided to take a break and make some hot chocolate. Rex, the determined, hardworking man that he was, decided to start with the sock wrapping. You’d convinced him to take a break too, once the hot chocolate was ready.
So, you both sat, surrounded by socks, sipping away at the sweet drink. As Rex emptied his mug, much to your amusement, you noticed that a chocolate line marked his upper lip, as if facial hair had suddenly sprouted there. His caramel eyes had widened and then narrowed as he noticed your amusement, which then caused soft giggles to escape your lips. When Rex asked you what you were laughing about, you’d cupped his face and leaned in to kiss him. But, you didn’t kiss him. No, you quickly leaned in further and licked the chocolate from his lip. Poor Rex was totally surprised, flailing and pushing you off him, before he gave you a look of bewilderment. He didn’t even need to verbalise his question, as you laughed, pointing to his hot chocolate mug and telling him that he didn’t quite suit having a moustache. For that, he threw an unwrapped pair of socks at you and then it dawned on you both how much more wrapping you had to do.
Eventually everything was wrapped. The more personal gifts were placed by your blue Life Day holo-tree, whilst the socks were placed in a massive sack and shoved in your closet until the day itself, which was fast approaching.
Two days before the special day, you went out to get the food and drinks whilst Rex visited Anakin, Padmé and their twin babies, Luke and Leia. Rex had asked if you wanted him to reschedule his meeting with his former General, but you’d convinced him to go and that you’d be fine on your own. And that you were. It had been difficult, lugging back the bags of groceries, three in each hand. But you did it in the end, long before Rex returned home.
By the time Rex did return, you were busy with the food preparation that you could do in advance. You were so busy in fact, that you did not notice the smudge berry sauce on your cheek. You were entirely oblivious to it, and whilst you cooked away, Rex plotted as he was so innocently taking off his boots and coat. Still unaware, you’d bopped along to the song playing on your datapad, humming it quietly. And then sturdy, warm arms wrapped around you and Rex’s cold nose prodded at the back of your ear. You’d leaned back into your partner’s arms, feeling safe and secure. He saw his chance and took it. You felt Rex’s hot, wet tongue glide over your cheek, which caused you to freeze in place. He’d murmured into your ear right after, telling you that you had sauce on your cheek. It was payback for the hot chocolate incident, of course.
You’d just managed to get all the food prepared as the sun set on Life Day Eve. Rex had helped where he could, but cooking was never his greatest skill. He could, however, help tidy up. But this was Rex and he wasn’t going to let you do more than you had to. So, he’d grabbed your shoulders and gently pushed you into the refresher, where a steaming bubble bath awaited you. He took care of you, peeling off the layers of your food stained clothes, placing them in the laundry and then lifting you into the tub, feeling entirely spoiled. As you’d settled down into the warm water, Rex placed a caring kiss against your forehead, telling you to relax. Relax you did, as Rex returned to the kitchen to wash up. After both you and the kitchen were squeaky clean, you’d grabbed some fluffy blankets from your room and placed them on the couch before the holoTV. Soon, you were reclined against Rex, head on his chest as his fingers rested against your scalp and played with your hair. On the holoTV, there was some cheesy Life Day romantic comedy, yet neither of you paid any attention, instead focusing on each other in the warm glow of your apartment. You couldn’t wait for tomorrow if it was going to be as good as the time spent together preparing.
Fandom: Star Wars - The Clone Wars // Medieval Fantasy AU
Pairing: Captain Rex x baker!reader
Content: fluff, first meeting, pastries
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,871
A/N: This is my first time writing for Rex so I’m not sure if I’ve got his characterisation down, especially as this is a medieval AU. Art used of medieval Rex in the header image is by Jake Bartok.
You had been surprised when you first met Captain Rex. The cold, winter sun glinted upon shining plate armour as he walked through the city market, wet mud splashed and squelched under his boots, that marked his silver greaves with specks of brown dirt. At the time, you didn’t know who he was, only that he was part of the King’s Guard due to the blue markings upon his armour, as well as the billowing white cape that blew gently with the wind behind him.
Two young boys had run across his path, chasing each other with twigs, pretending that they were great warriors sparring upon a battle field. You saw how Rex stopped to allow them to pass, the visor of his helmet shifting to watch them play. His shoulders gently shook as you realised the real warrior had found amusement in the innocence of youth.
You shook your head at the scene, surprised by the kind, human reaction Rex displayed. You’d expected a King’s Guard to be more… high strung. You turned back to your bakery stall, letting the warm moment you’d witnessed brighten your mood as you bent down to lift out a fresh batch of bread to replenish your stock. As you raised your head, you noticed the shadow that now loomed there over your stall.
Raising yourself up to greet your customer, your eyes travelled the length of their torso before you saw their face. It was that shiny plate armour: silver thigh guards and a codpiece peeking through under black leather faulds with deep blue trimmings; leather belts and pouches strapped about his waist where the metal of his breastplate began. The said breastplate was stylised to represent the toned flesh that resided underneath. On his right shoulder sat a curved pauldron, shiny metal marked with sapphire blue paint. Too were marked his vambraces and rembraces, in perfect symmetry, aside from the other pauldron which sat on his right shoulder, with leather strapping across his upper torso to keep it in place. The pauldron was rather oddly shaped, 3 sides of it planed at soft angles with each other to fit over the shoulder and too it was painted that dark sapphire blue. Finally, there was the helmet. Much like the rest of his armour, it shone brilliantly; silver metal that was marked with that blue paint around the T-shaped eye hole in his visor. Specifically there were two pointed, somewhat triangular shaped painted above the eye slit. You did not know what they meant, but you had not seen them worn by anyone in the King’s Guard, or even any knight for that matter. He was, you thought, stunning. You hadn’t even seen his face.
And then he removed his helmet. His skin was the same golden brown as your perfectly baked pastries. It was a bit of an odd comparison to make, but with your pastries sitting on the stall between the two of you, it was hard not to make the link. It blended brilliantly with the bright blonde colour of his short, cropped hair, that looked so silky and soft upon his head. His face itself was made of sharp curves and accents, coming together smoothly; he was truly one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen. And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. They were like the cherry on top of the cake. A glimmering amber that met your own gaze and shone with intensity and confidence.
You felt like you had been staring at him longer than you should have. If he noticed, however, he did not bring it up. It was either that or time slowed down, as distracted by his golden appearance as you were, allowing you the precious seconds to take in his presence before he noticed. Whatever the case, time truly caught up with you and sent you plunging headfirst into reality as he spoke.
“Ah, good day.”
His voice was as smooth as butter, even with the slight hesitation at the start. That is, the hesitation, what really surprised you. It was something so small, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but the nervousness present in his hesitation as he began to speak to you was something you’d never expected from a knight. You’d expected him to be confident, being a man a far higher standing than you. The hesitation and nervousness made you realise in an instant that the King’s Guard before you was too just another human, not something to be feared.
So, in response to his soft spoken, nervous greeting you offered a warm, friendly smile in return. “Good day to you too.”
The short conversation with the knight left you near forgetting your job.
“What can I help you with?”
A deep, considerate rumble emerged from the man as his eyes scanned the stall for a moment, before he offered, with lightly raised brows, “What would you recommend?”
You were somewhat stumped for a moment, considering what a knight, a King’s Guard even, would want from your bakery stall. With unsureity you pointed to the loaves of bread first, “Well, I’ve got many delicious loaves, of varying grains.” You realised as you finished the sentence that the man, with a position such as his would likely have easy access to bread, so you sputtered out quickly before the humiliation hit home, “Or, perhaps you’d fancy one - or some! - of my pastries.” You smiled widely, toothily and leant against the table before you, trying to nonchalantly brush off your embarrassment.
The knight smiled, soft dimples at the corners of his mouth emerged with the movement, you noticed. He dipped his head in approval, the words he spoke gentle, “A pastry sounds great.”
You gave another flick over of the knight with your eyes, as you ponder what sort of pastry he would like. Initially you would have pegged him as a savoury person, but even in the short moments speaking with him, you began to wonder if he favoured sweet treats.
Hesitantly, you pointed to one of the croissants at the front, decorated with white icing and pink raspberry flavoured sprinkles. It’s not something you’d expect a knight to like, or to even wish to be seen eating, but you pointed it out anyway, “This raspberry croissant is one of my favourites, I’d really recommend it.”
His caramel hues flicked towards it, narrowing for a moment before he bobbed his head in approval once more, “I’ll try it, how much?”
Your eyebrows rose, surprised that he did not refuse and go for a savoury pastry or… anything more dignified for his knightly self. So you stumbled out your words, “Oh, that’ll… that’ll be 5 copper pieces.”
He tilted his head, sunlight shifting over his golden features and silver armour, “5 copper?” You nodded in response, moving to take out a paper bag and wrap up the sweet pastry.
“How about 1 silver?”
You did a double take, nearly dropping the pastry in your hands as you turned to give him a look of bewilderment; 1 silver was well over the amount that you were charging. You weren’t the poorest person in the city, but you were far from the richest. 1 silver would’ve certainly make things a little less tight for you. But, you were honourable, you wouldn’t take that money, there was no reason for him to overpay you that much.
“No, that’s way too much.”
The knight looked a little stumped, eyes flicking between you and the pastry you were packing away for him. Realisation hit you.
Putting a hand on your hip, a smile teased your lips, as you asked the man, “You only brought silver coins, didn’t you?”
He nodded quickly, awkwardly, before blurting out, “Things tend to cost more around the palace.”
You chuckled softly, ignoring the twist in your stomach that made you falter in awe that you were truly speaking to a man who knew the king personally. Thus, with a slight more squeak to your voice than usual, you replied, “I can see that. Unfortunately I don’t have enough copper to make up the difference so…-“
“Just take the silver, it’s my own mistake.”
You shook your head at him, “No, no, I have something else in mind.”
He paused, lips slightly parted and eyes wide, looking at you to save this awkward situation.
You took out your notebook, resting it against the counter as you picked up your writing charcoal and scribbled down the mathematics. “So, 5 copper for the pastry. If you come back for… hmm… 19 more days, to get another pastry, then you get your money’s worth.”
You smiled up to him, watching his features contort from worry to amusement. He grinned at you, dimples emerging and the corner’s of his eyes crinkling, “Very smart, Miss...” He trailed off, before shaking his head lightly and offering you a sheepish smile, “Sorry, what’s your name? It was impolite of me not to ask sooner.”
You shrugged lightly, handing the pastry all wrapped up over to him, noticing how your fingers gently brushed with his, then telling him your name with a soft tone to your voice. You then looked to your notebook for a second, whilst the knight slowly unwraps the pastry then and there, not bothering to move away from your stall. So you lightly cleared your throat, asking “Excuse me, but what’s *your* name? Just so I can keep track of how many pastries I owe you!”
He stops unwrapping the pastry, lifting his gaze so it met yours, caramel eyes sparking with mirth, “The name’s Rex, Captain Rex.”
This man was really good at surprising you, which thus caused you to blurt out, “You’re *the* Captain Rex? The Captain of the King’s Guard?”
He so humbly nodded, after lifting the pastry to his lips and taking a bite. After a moment, he offered another smile, kind-hearted and with a twinkle of pride. “Yes, I am. And, I must say,” he continued, “I am looking forward to returning tomorrow and the day after, if your goods are able to live up to this one.”
Your cheeks heated softly at his words, as you called back in return, “I am looking forward to it too!”
Rex held up to his word, returning the next day, with you giving him a new pastry to try. The day after, he returned again. And again. Soon, those days that were promised for him to return ended. But where it ended, something new sprouted and replaced it. Something that drew you even closer to Captain Rex of the King’s Guard.
After so much time, however, you never forgot that first meeting. If not for his surprising attitude and demeanour from under that helm… well, then you would not find yourself waking up for a long day as the royal baker, preparing delicious goods for a whole court. And in turn, you would not find yourself being dragged back into the warmth of your bed by two muscular, golden toned arms, Rex’s nose then nuzzling into your neck and his pale blonde hair, as short as it was, tickling your cheek, before you felt soft, loving kisses pepper your skin.
Fandom: Star Wars - The Clone Wars // Medieval Fantasy AU
Pairing: Captain Rex x baker!reader
Content: fluff, first meeting, pastries
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,871
A/N: This is my first time writing for Rex so I’m not sure if I’ve got his characterisation down, especially as this is a medieval AU. Art used of medieval Rex in the header image is by Jake Bartok.
You had been surprised when you first met Captain Rex. The cold, winter sun glinted upon shining plate armour as he walked through the city market, wet mud splashed and squelched under his boots, that marked his silver greaves with specks of brown dirt. At the time, you didn’t know who he was, only that he was part of the King’s Guard due to the blue markings upon his armour, as well as the billowing white cape that blew gently with the wind behind him.
Two young boys had run across his path, chasing each other with twigs, pretending that they were great warriors sparring upon a battle field. You saw how Rex stopped to allow them to pass, the visor of his helmet shifting to watch them play. His shoulders gently shook as you realised the real warrior had found amusement in the innocence of youth.
You shook your head at the scene, surprised by the kind, human reaction Rex displayed. You’d expected a King’s Guard to be more… high strung. You turned back to your bakery stall, letting the warm moment you’d witnessed brighten your mood as you bent down to lift out a fresh batch of bread to replenish your stock. As you raised your head, you noticed the shadow that now loomed there over your stall.
Raising yourself up to greet your customer, your eyes travelled the length of their torso before you saw their face. It was that shiny plate armour: silver thigh guards and a codpiece peeking through under black leather faulds with deep blue trimmings; leather belts and pouches strapped about his waist where the metal of his breastplate began. The said breastplate was stylised to represent the toned flesh that resided underneath. On his right shoulder sat a curved pauldron, shiny metal marked with sapphire blue paint. Too were marked his vambraces and rembraces, in perfect symmetry, aside from the other pauldron which sat on his right shoulder, with leather strapping across his upper torso to keep it in place. The pauldron was rather oddly shaped, 3 sides of it planed at soft angles with each other to fit over the shoulder and too it was painted that dark sapphire blue. Finally, there was the helmet. Much like the rest of his armour, it shone brilliantly; silver metal that was marked with that blue paint around the T-shaped eye hole in his visor. Specifically there were two pointed, somewhat triangular shaped painted above the eye slit. You did not know what they meant, but you had not seen them worn by anyone in the King’s Guard, or even any knight for that matter. He was, you thought, stunning. You hadn’t even seen his face.
And then he removed his helmet. His skin was the same golden brown as your perfectly baked pastries. It was a bit of an odd comparison to make, but with your pastries sitting on the stall between the two of you, it was hard not to make the link. It blended brilliantly with the bright blonde colour of his short, cropped hair, that looked so silky and soft upon his head. His face itself was made of sharp curves and accents, coming together smoothly; he was truly one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen. And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. They were like the cherry on top of the cake. A glimmering amber that met your own gaze and shone with intensity and confidence.
You felt like you had been staring at him longer than you should have. If he noticed, however, he did not bring it up. It was either that or time slowed down, as distracted by his golden appearance as you were, allowing you the precious seconds to take in his presence before he noticed. Whatever the case, time truly caught up with you and sent you plunging headfirst into reality as he spoke.
“Ah, good day.”
His voice was as smooth as butter, even with the slight hesitation at the start. That is, the hesitation, what really surprised you. It was something so small, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but the nervousness present in his hesitation as he began to speak to you was something you’d never expected from a knight. You’d expected him to be confident, being a man a far higher standing than you. The hesitation and nervousness made you realise in an instant that the King’s Guard before you was too just another human, not something to be feared.
So, in response to his soft spoken, nervous greeting you offered a warm, friendly smile in return. “Good day to you too.”
The short conversation with the knight left you near forgetting your job.
“What can I help you with?”
A deep, considerate rumble emerged from the man as his eyes scanned the stall for a moment, before he offered, with lightly raised brows, “What would you recommend?”
You were somewhat stumped for a moment, considering what a knight, a King’s Guard even, would want from your bakery stall. With unsureity you pointed to the loaves of bread first, “Well, I’ve got many delicious loaves, of varying grains.” You realised as you finished the sentence that the man, with a position such as his would likely have easy access to bread, so you sputtered out quickly before the humiliation hit home, “Or, perhaps you’d fancy one - or some! - of my pastries.” You smiled widely, toothily and leant against the table before you, trying to nonchalantly brush off your embarrassment.
The knight smiled, soft dimples at the corners of his mouth emerged with the movement, you noticed. He dipped his head in approval, the words he spoke gentle, “A pastry sounds great.”
You gave another flick over of the knight with your eyes, as you ponder what sort of pastry he would like. Initially you would have pegged him as a savoury person, but even in the short moments speaking with him, you began to wonder if he favoured sweet treats.
Hesitantly, you pointed to one of the croissants at the front, decorated with white icing and pink raspberry flavoured sprinkles. It’s not something you’d expect a knight to like, or to even wish to be seen eating, but you pointed it out anyway, “This raspberry croissant is one of my favourites, I’d really recommend it.”
His caramel hues flicked towards it, narrowing for a moment before he bobbed his head in approval once more, “I’ll try it, how much?”
Your eyebrows rose, surprised that he did not refuse and go for a savoury pastry or… anything more dignified for his knightly self. So you stumbled out your words, “Oh, that’ll… that’ll be 5 copper pieces.”
He tilted his head, sunlight shifting over his golden features and silver armour, “5 copper?” You nodded in response, moving to take out a paper bag and wrap up the sweet pastry.
“How about 1 silver?”
You did a double take, nearly dropping the pastry in your hands as you turned to give him a look of bewilderment; 1 silver was well over the amount that you were charging. You weren’t the poorest person in the city, but you were far from the richest. 1 silver would’ve certainly make things a little less tight for you. But, you were honourable, you wouldn’t take that money, there was no reason for him to overpay you that much.
“No, that’s way too much.”
The knight looked a little stumped, eyes flicking between you and the pastry you were packing away for him. Realisation hit you.
Putting a hand on your hip, a smile teased your lips, as you asked the man, “You only brought silver coins, didn’t you?”
He nodded quickly, awkwardly, before blurting out, “Things tend to cost more around the palace.”
You chuckled softly, ignoring the twist in your stomach that made you falter in awe that you were truly speaking to a man who knew the king personally. Thus, with a slight more squeak to your voice than usual, you replied, “I can see that. Unfortunately I don’t have enough copper to make up the difference so…-“
“Just take the silver, it’s my own mistake.”
You shook your head at him, “No, no, I have something else in mind.”
He paused, lips slightly parted and eyes wide, looking at you to save this awkward situation.
You took out your notebook, resting it against the counter as you picked up your writing charcoal and scribbled down the mathematics. “So, 5 copper for the pastry. If you come back for… hmm… 19 more days, to get another pastry, then you get your money’s worth.”
You smiled up to him, watching his features contort from worry to amusement. He grinned at you, dimples emerging and the corner’s of his eyes crinkling, “Very smart, Miss...” He trailed off, before shaking his head lightly and offering you a sheepish smile, “Sorry, what’s your name? It was impolite of me not to ask sooner.”
You shrugged lightly, handing the pastry all wrapped up over to him, noticing how your fingers gently brushed with his, then telling him your name with a soft tone to your voice. You then looked to your notebook for a second, whilst the knight slowly unwraps the pastry then and there, not bothering to move away from your stall. So you lightly cleared your throat, asking “Excuse me, but what’s *your* name? Just so I can keep track of how many pastries I owe you!”
He stops unwrapping the pastry, lifting his gaze so it met yours, caramel eyes sparking with mirth, “The name’s Rex, Captain Rex.”
This man was really good at surprising you, which thus caused you to blurt out, “You’re *the* Captain Rex? The Captain of the King’s Guard?”
He so humbly nodded, after lifting the pastry to his lips and taking a bite. After a moment, he offered another smile, kind-hearted and with a twinkle of pride. “Yes, I am. And, I must say,” he continued, “I am looking forward to returning tomorrow and the day after, if your goods are able to live up to this one.”
Your cheeks heated softly at his words, as you called back in return, “I am looking forward to it too!”
Rex held up to his word, returning the next day, with you giving him a new pastry to try. The day after, he returned again. And again. Soon, those days that were promised for him to return ended. But where it ended, something new sprouted and replaced it. Something that drew you even closer to Captain Rex of the King’s Guard.
After so much time, however, you never forgot that first meeting. If not for his surprising attitude and demeanour from under that helm… well, then you would not find yourself waking up for a long day as the royal baker, preparing delicious goods for a whole court. And in turn, you would not find yourself being dragged back into the warmth of your bed by two muscular, golden toned arms, Rex’s nose then nuzzling into your neck and his pale blonde hair, as short as it was, tickling your cheek, before you felt soft, loving kisses pepper your skin.
This is sweet and sappy and wholesome and Rex's characterisation is so on point you awkward shy bastard Rex. We love you
Such a wonderful fic!!! Thank you so much for sharing this gem! Medieval Rex my beloved
Makes me wonder tho... who is King and Queen? Ani and Padme? Maybe Obi is chief advisor, only Anakin never takes his advice? Palps was a dodgy old lord who got found out and disposed of. Now I'm having medieval fix it!au fix with littlw tiny princess leia and prince Luke running amok woth Auntie Sokka just watching and laughing
Awh, thank you!! I’m really happy that I was able to portray Rex well, I was super worried that I’d mess it up somehow.
As for who is king and queen… well, I’ve been thinking of Obi-Wan as king, having taken the throne after his dad, Qui-Gon, was assassinated. Anakin would totally be Obi-Wan’s half brother and be a total chaos gremlin that King’s Guard Rex ends up running after to stop half the time. And Anakin would have this secret love affair with the ambassador from the kingdom of Naboo, Padme, in a totally Romeo and Juliet style way, without the tragic ending. And Ahsoka… I think she’d be like a street kid that befriends Anakin and he takes her under his wing to cause more chaos for Rex to clean up after. And I love your idea of Aunty ‘Soka with itty bitty Luke and Leia. Like, Anakin and Padme are finally able to be public and get married and they have the twins. And Ahsoka becomes that one aunt who just encourages the twins’ mayhem.
Fandom: Star Wars - The Clone Wars // Medieval Fantasy AU
Pairing: Captain Rex x baker!reader
Content: fluff, first meeting, pastries
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,871
A/N: This is my first time writing for Rex so I’m not sure if I’ve got his characterisation down, especially as this is a medieval AU. Art used of medieval Rex in the header image is by Jake Bartok.
You had been surprised when you first met Captain Rex. The cold, winter sun glinted upon shining plate armour as he walked through the city market, wet mud splashed and squelched under his boots, that marked his silver greaves with specks of brown dirt. At the time, you didn’t know who he was, only that he was part of the King’s Guard due to the blue markings upon his armour, as well as the billowing white cape that blew gently with the wind behind him.
Two young boys had run across his path, chasing each other with twigs, pretending that they were great warriors sparring upon a battle field. You saw how Rex stopped to allow them to pass, the visor of his helmet shifting to watch them play. His shoulders gently shook as you realised the real warrior had found amusement in the innocence of youth.
You shook your head at the scene, surprised by the kind, human reaction Rex displayed. You’d expected a King’s Guard to be more… high strung. You turned back to your bakery stall, letting the warm moment you’d witnessed brighten your mood as you bent down to lift out a fresh batch of bread to replenish your stock. As you raised your head, you noticed the shadow that now loomed there over your stall.
Raising yourself up to greet your customer, your eyes travelled the length of their torso before you saw their face. It was that shiny plate armour: silver thigh guards and a codpiece peeking through under black leather faulds with deep blue trimmings; leather belts and pouches strapped about his waist where the metal of his breastplate began. The said breastplate was stylised to represent the toned flesh that resided underneath. On his right shoulder sat a curved pauldron, shiny metal marked with sapphire blue paint. Too were marked his vambraces and rembraces, in perfect symmetry, aside from the other pauldron which sat on his right shoulder, with leather strapping across his upper torso to keep it in place. The pauldron was rather oddly shaped, 3 sides of it planed at soft angles with each other to fit over the shoulder and too it was painted that dark sapphire blue. Finally, there was the helmet. Much like the rest of his armour, it shone brilliantly; silver metal that was marked with that blue paint around the T-shaped eye hole in his visor. Specifically there were two pointed, somewhat triangular shaped painted above the eye slit. You did not know what they meant, but you had not seen them worn by anyone in the King’s Guard, or even any knight for that matter. He was, you thought, stunning. You hadn’t even seen his face.
And then he removed his helmet. His skin was the same golden brown as your perfectly baked pastries. It was a bit of an odd comparison to make, but with your pastries sitting on the stall between the two of you, it was hard not to make the link. It blended brilliantly with the bright blonde colour of his short, cropped hair, that looked so silky and soft upon his head. His face itself was made of sharp curves and accents, coming together smoothly; he was truly one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen. And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. They were like the cherry on top of the cake. A glimmering amber that met your own gaze and shone with intensity and confidence.
You felt like you had been staring at him longer than you should have. If he noticed, however, he did not bring it up. It was either that or time slowed down, as distracted by his golden appearance as you were, allowing you the precious seconds to take in his presence before he noticed. Whatever the case, time truly caught up with you and sent you plunging headfirst into reality as he spoke.
“Ah, good day.”
His voice was as smooth as butter, even with the slight hesitation at the start. That is, the hesitation, what really surprised you. It was something so small, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but the nervousness present in his hesitation as he began to speak to you was something you’d never expected from a knight. You’d expected him to be confident, being a man a far higher standing than you. The hesitation and nervousness made you realise in an instant that the King’s Guard before you was too just another human, not something to be feared.
So, in response to his soft spoken, nervous greeting you offered a warm, friendly smile in return. “Good day to you too.”
The short conversation with the knight left you near forgetting your job.
“What can I help you with?”
A deep, considerate rumble emerged from the man as his eyes scanned the stall for a moment, before he offered, with lightly raised brows, “What would you recommend?”
You were somewhat stumped for a moment, considering what a knight, a King’s Guard even, would want from your bakery stall. With unsureity you pointed to the loaves of bread first, “Well, I’ve got many delicious loaves, of varying grains.” You realised as you finished the sentence that the man, with a position such as his would likely have easy access to bread, so you sputtered out quickly before the humiliation hit home, “Or, perhaps you’d fancy one - or some! - of my pastries.” You smiled widely, toothily and leant against the table before you, trying to nonchalantly brush off your embarrassment.
The knight smiled, soft dimples at the corners of his mouth emerged with the movement, you noticed. He dipped his head in approval, the words he spoke gentle, “A pastry sounds great.”
You gave another flick over of the knight with your eyes, as you ponder what sort of pastry he would like. Initially you would have pegged him as a savoury person, but even in the short moments speaking with him, you began to wonder if he favoured sweet treats.
Hesitantly, you pointed to one of the croissants at the front, decorated with white icing and pink raspberry flavoured sprinkles. It’s not something you’d expect a knight to like, or to even wish to be seen eating, but you pointed it out anyway, “This raspberry croissant is one of my favourites, I’d really recommend it.”
His caramel hues flicked towards it, narrowing for a moment before he bobbed his head in approval once more, “I’ll try it, how much?”
Your eyebrows rose, surprised that he did not refuse and go for a savoury pastry or… anything more dignified for his knightly self. So you stumbled out your words, “Oh, that’ll… that’ll be 5 copper pieces.”
He tilted his head, sunlight shifting over his golden features and silver armour, “5 copper?” You nodded in response, moving to take out a paper bag and wrap up the sweet pastry.
“How about 1 silver?”
You did a double take, nearly dropping the pastry in your hands as you turned to give him a look of bewilderment; 1 silver was well over the amount that you were charging. You weren’t the poorest person in the city, but you were far from the richest. 1 silver would’ve certainly make things a little less tight for you. But, you were honourable, you wouldn’t take that money, there was no reason for him to overpay you that much.
“No, that’s way too much.”
The knight looked a little stumped, eyes flicking between you and the pastry you were packing away for him. Realisation hit you.
Putting a hand on your hip, a smile teased your lips, as you asked the man, “You only brought silver coins, didn’t you?”
He nodded quickly, awkwardly, before blurting out, “Things tend to cost more around the palace.”
You chuckled softly, ignoring the twist in your stomach that made you falter in awe that you were truly speaking to a man who knew the king personally. Thus, with a slight more squeak to your voice than usual, you replied, “I can see that. Unfortunately I don’t have enough copper to make up the difference so…-“
“Just take the silver, it’s my own mistake.”
You shook your head at him, “No, no, I have something else in mind.”
He paused, lips slightly parted and eyes wide, looking at you to save this awkward situation.
You took out your notebook, resting it against the counter as you picked up your writing charcoal and scribbled down the mathematics. “So, 5 copper for the pastry. If you come back for… hmm… 19 more days, to get another pastry, then you get your money’s worth.”
You smiled up to him, watching his features contort from worry to amusement. He grinned at you, dimples emerging and the corner’s of his eyes crinkling, “Very smart, Miss...” He trailed off, before shaking his head lightly and offering you a sheepish smile, “Sorry, what’s your name? It was impolite of me not to ask sooner.”
You shrugged lightly, handing the pastry all wrapped up over to him, noticing how your fingers gently brushed with his, then telling him your name with a soft tone to your voice. You then looked to your notebook for a second, whilst the knight slowly unwraps the pastry then and there, not bothering to move away from your stall. So you lightly cleared your throat, asking “Excuse me, but what’s *your* name? Just so I can keep track of how many pastries I owe you!”
He stops unwrapping the pastry, lifting his gaze so it met yours, caramel eyes sparking with mirth, “The name’s Rex, Captain Rex.”
This man was really good at surprising you, which thus caused you to blurt out, “You’re *the* Captain Rex? The Captain of the King’s Guard?”
He so humbly nodded, after lifting the pastry to his lips and taking a bite. After a moment, he offered another smile, kind-hearted and with a twinkle of pride. “Yes, I am. And, I must say,” he continued, “I am looking forward to returning tomorrow and the day after, if your goods are able to live up to this one.”
Your cheeks heated softly at his words, as you called back in return, “I am looking forward to it too!”
Rex held up to his word, returning the next day, with you giving him a new pastry to try. The day after, he returned again. And again. Soon, those days that were promised for him to return ended. But where it ended, something new sprouted and replaced it. Something that drew you even closer to Captain Rex of the King’s Guard.
After so much time, however, you never forgot that first meeting. If not for his surprising attitude and demeanour from under that helm… well, then you would not find yourself waking up for a long day as the royal baker, preparing delicious goods for a whole court. And in turn, you would not find yourself being dragged back into the warmth of your bed by two muscular, golden toned arms, Rex’s nose then nuzzling into your neck and his pale blonde hair, as short as it was, tickling your cheek, before you felt soft, loving kisses pepper your skin.
As long as you’d known Jean-Pierre Polnareff, he was a romantic.
You had French relations and had moved in with them in their small countryside town a few weeks prior to when you’d bumped into the silver-haired man by accident. You’d lost your balance and fallen to the ground, only to find his outstretched hand offering to pick you up. You noticed then that he had a bandage wrapped around his hands and from the shape of it, it looked like he was missing a couple of fingers. You’d told him that you didn’t want to hurt him, causing him to blush and hold forth his other hand. You took with a smile, thanking the charming gentleman for his help, apologising for your clumsiness when you bumped into him. He’d chuckled, telling you that it wasn’t a problem and that perhaps it were fate that such a pretty person bumped into him. That made you blush, and he blushed too. From that moment onwards, Polnareff sent romantic gestures your way.
He once picked a flower from the wild and handed it to you - “A beautiful flower fitting of your beauty,” he’d said.
He’d bought you a small tarte aux fraises when you’d been eyeing up the delicious looking pastry stall at the local market. You were sure that he picked that one specifically because the strawberries on top were incidentally in the shape of a heart.
He’d asked if you wanted to go for a stroll one day and he ended up taking you through the wilderness of the French countryside to a beautiful little valley with a small creek in the middle. That’s when you found out he grew up in this town. You asked him to show you more hidden spots like this in the future.
All these little romantic gestures were great. Polnareff was a charming man, but also an incredibly handsome one. He was taller than you, especially with his tower-like hairstyle. His body was large and heavily defined by prominent musculature, which looked so huggable. You really wanted to cuddle up to him. The features of his that stood out to you the most, however, were his eyes and his smile. His eyes were a deep blue and sparkled like sapphires. His smile was always so happy and it filled you with joy when he looked over at you with a grin on his face; he looked so enamoured with you.
You were almost surprised that he hadn’t asked you on a date, until you realised that Valentine’s Day was coming up soon. It felt like he was planning a surprise as it got closer to the date.
You awaken on Valentines morning and nothing seems out of the ordinary. You make your way downstairs when you see something on the doormat of the front door. It’s a red envelope and it has your name written in fancy cursive on it! As you go to pick it up, you notice there’s a red string attached to it. You rush around to get ready, knowing that red string will lead to whoever posted the envelope through the letterbox - you certainly can’t follow it in your pyjamas and your hair in a mess. Once you’re ready, you pick up the envelope, opening the door and thread it back through the letterbox so that you can follow the red string.
It lead out of the garden, down along the stone cobble wall. It led into a small park, across to a large oak tree, where the end of the string seemed to be wrapped around. You walked around the tree to find Polnareff sitting at its base, holding the other end of the string. He looked up at you with an ever so innocent smile on his face. “Bonjour, fancy meeting you here, darling?” he said sweetly, obviously feigning ignorance.
You gave him a smile, “Bonjour Jean-Pierre.” You tugged at the red string, making him look at it between you too. “I was led here by this red string.” you tell him.
He grins, excitedly exclaiming, “The red string of fate! Do you know what this means?”
You smirked, “I think I do, but there’s this envelope attached to it. I haven’t opened it yet.”
Polnareff’s eyes widened and he waved his hands towards it, “Well, open it!”
You did.
You looked down at Polnareff, a vivid blush spreading across your face. You kneeled down next to him; he watched you the whole time, blush on his cheeks too and a bead of nervous sweat on his forehead.
A/N: This is a bit of a self-indulgent fic, as I find the moments when Polnareff smokes really hot for some reason, even though I don’t like it irl.
Ship: Polnareff x reader
Summary: On your trip of Egypt with the Stardust Crusaders, you get a little distracted by the charming Frenchman known as Jean-Pierre Polnareff
Content: sfw, a little fluff, gender neutral reader
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1607
⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝
It had been a long day of travelling for you and the Stardust Crusaders. It wasn’t the most pleasant journey, being stuck inside the jeep with four very large men. You were getting closer and closer to the Pakistani border, which felt relatively good. But being stuck between Jotaro and Kakyoin, with no existing elbow room, had frustrated and tired you. You couldn’t really look out the window, stuck staring ahead at the road, although Polnareff’s shoulder obscured that some. Additionally, you felt rather awkward at that fact that you keep meeting Polnareff’s glance through the rear view mirror.
His deep blue eyes were intense and beautiful, sparkling in the bright sunlight of India. You tried your hardest not to stare, instead averting your gaze and trying to hide behind your hands as your cheeks turned rosy. For you had developed a little crush on the charming Frenchman.
You wished you could steal Jotaro’s hat and hide underneath it as the said man often did himself. However, to commit such a deed would be an inevitable failure. That hat belonged on Jotaro’s head and no one else’s. Jotaro would probably break your fingers before they even got a grasp on it and whilst your stand, Mercy Street, had the ability to heal, you still didn’t want to face Jotaro’s wrath.
Multiple times during the day, Polnareff placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it. Jotaro and the aforementioned Polnareff were the only ones that smoked regularly, however you were partial to one from time to time, when you were especially stressed. Every now and then Polnareff briefly turned his head to look back at you when you input something to the general conversation in the car. The cigarette was held between his lips, creating a smoky haze between the two of you. That didn’t stop you from inadvertently staring at how his lips gently kept the cigarette between them. His lips looked so plush and soft. You felt your cheeks heat up once again and you turned your head away. But as you looked past Jotaro to the outside world, you could help but imagine pulling that cigarette out of his mouth, discarding it to the side, and finally pulling the Frenchman closer, planting your lips onto his.
You then realised, as you’d begun to fantasise, Jotaro was giving you a hard side stare. When your eyes met his, he instantly sighed, pulling his hat down over his eyes, muttering what had become his catchphrase, “Yare yare daze.”
Hours later and the sun had lowered to the horizon, turning the sky a deep orange around it and a hazy purple on the other horizon. There was not another town for another 50 miles according to Mr Joestar’s map and you’d all agreed that it would be safer to camp in the wilderness than risk running into another enemy stand user. You’d been tasked with gathering some firewood alongside Polnareff. The silver-haired young man was little less enthusiastic than you, as he’d been driving all day, so you worked out a little plan of you collecting the sticks whilst he held them for you. The Frenchman was quiet as you wandered around the surroundings. As you bent over to pick up another piece of wood, you felt as if there were eyes on you.
Straightening up, you looked behind you to see Polnareff looking up at the sky, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “The stars are coming out, look,” he said, finishing the sentence with your name rolling off his beautifully accented tongue. You felt as if you’d missed something though, as if the Frenchman was trying to distract you from something. You shook it off, trying to get the task done before the sun set completely.
Later that evening, after you’d all eaten and relaxed around the fire, Polnareff pulled out another cigarette and stuck the end of it in the flames briefly to light it. He stood up, glancing at you as he did, and wandered a little way from the camp. The others were getting into their sleeping bags, tired and weary.
You decided to follow the Frenchman.
“Mind if I join you?” you asked, sound rather timid, surprised at the sound of your own voice and biting your lip in embarrassment because of it.
Polnareff shook his head, moving to sit on a nearby rock and patting the rest of the flat part of it next to him, inviting you to sit next to him. As you perched on the rock beside him, you realised how close you were to him. You could feel the warmth of his body next to you. What you would give to snuggle up to that.
You sat in silence for a few minutes, before Polnareff looked down at you. You tilted your head upwards to look at him, having to do so because you were so close now. The cigarette dangled between Polnareff’s lips, burning slowly. It was hard to draw your eyes away from them. A smirk tugged at Polnareff’s lips as you met his eyes.
“I should have asked earlier, but would you like one?” he asked gentlemanly.
Shaking your head, you refused, “No, I don’t feel like it right now.”
Your eyes glanced down as his lips, the cigarette between them, but you quickly tried to hide it, looking away slightly. A blush creeped onto your cheeks as you thought how hot he looked with that cigarette pressed between his lips.
Suddenly, you felt his arm wrap around you. You tensed, surprised at the contact, the blush going a deeper shade of pink. You felt Polnareff’s shoulder slack at your reaction and he tried to move his arm away. However, you quickly grasped at his muscular forearms, your hands looking rather small in comparison as they curled around it. He paused and you looked up at him once more, as if asking for an explanation.
“You...” The Frenchman looked away slightly and you noticed a blush appear on his cheeks. “You seemed like you were cold,” he answered, cigarette bobbing up and down between his lips as he spoke. You nodded, even though you felt perfectly fine, essentially with the warmth of his body somewhat surrounding you. His arm around you relaxed and so did you as you leaned against his large pectorals. There was a growing tenseness in your chest as your mind reeled at the fact that you were cuddling with the man that you wanted so desperately to kiss tenderly. You wondered if you could try it, but you were concerned that this was all just platonic.
You noticed Polnareff flick the now dead cigarette end into the sand as he finished it. You were caught a little off guard when he spoke your name in such a tender tone. You looked up to meet his gaze and when your eyes met this time, electricity flowed between you.
“You looked so desperate for that cigarette, staring at it like that. Are you sure you don’t want it? You seem like you’ve been craving it all day.”
You shook your head, “I don’t want one.”
His brow furrowed, “What do you want then?”
“I want...” you mumbled, eyes drifting to his lips again.
As if reading your mind, the silver haired Frenchman pressed his plush lips against yours. His lips were surprisingly warm and soft, more so than you’d ever imagined. You melted into the kiss like he was the pan and you the butter. It was long and tender, his lips moving gently against yours. He would pull away for barely a second, barely a centimetre, before pressing his lips to yours once again. You mirrored him as you kissed back. It was so hungry a kiss, yet both of you were savouring it, taking in every sensation. There was no rush, no urgency, but it was filled with as much passion, if not more.
Eventually, the fast beats of your heart pushed you to move away from the kiss, being overwhelmed by the love that you felt in the kiss. You leaned into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his neck. He enveloped you in his large arms as you did.
He went to speak, but he could not say even the first syllable as you spoke: “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, Jean-Pierre.”
His chest rumbled as he softly replied, “Me too, ma chérie.”
You smiled against his skin and then pressed a kiss against it. “I would like to kiss you some more.”
Polnareff’s embrace around you grew tighter, but it never hurt you. “I would like too as well. But, I am tired, ma chérie. Can we go to sleep and continue this tomorrow?”
You nodded, “Yes, I would like that. If we can kiss the day after tomorrow as well.”
You felt him chuckle, “How about the days after that too?”
You responded to that by moving to press a soft kiss to his lips, but then as you moved to pull away, you took his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging at it gently before letting go. You pulled away from him, standing up and stepping back. There was another smirk on his lips as he rose to stand, towering over you slightly. You grinned, walking backwards towards your sleeping bag.
He took two steps towards you, then stopping, “If I take any more steps,” he whispers, as you’re both closer to the others who appeared to be asleep by now, “I won’t be able to sleep. But I promise, you will get kisses every tomorrow, as long as you want them.”
A/N: This is my first ever little ‘x reader’ drabble that I’ve written and the first time I’ve posted my writing to tumblr! I’m currently obsessed with the charming gentleman that is Polnareff and I thought I might add more Polnareff x reader content to the community.
Summary: You’re enjoying some time in the garden and Polnareff wants to give you some love.
Content: sfw fluff, gender neutral reader
Warnings: None
⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝
𝒞'𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝐵𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒
It was a beautiful spring day in the small, idyllic countryside town that your partner, Jean-Pierre Polnareff, grew up in. You’d lived there with him for a couple of years now, after you’d met and kindled a romantic relationship during the quest to Egypt to defeat Dio. Once Dio was defeated, both you and Polnareff weren’t sure where you were going to go. Polnareff wanted to return to his homeland and it didn’t take you long to decide to go with him, even though your relationship had been a whirlwind so far at that point.
Back to the present, two years after you’d started to settle down with your dearest Frenchman, you were on your knees in the small little garden of your renovated farmhouse. You were surrounded by many multicoloured flowers, all of which you’d grown and tended to yourself. In one hand you held a small dirt covered trowel, the other hand free but smeared with soil. In front of you, a freshly planted patch of purple pansies.
“Ma chérie, are you still in the garden?”, you heard Jean-Pierre’s voice call from the back of the house, where the door to the garden was.
“Oui,” you answered. You both tended to switch back and forth between French and English, for by this point, you both spoke fluently in either language, and often didn’t even notice the swap in language.
“Have you finished planting your new pansies?” asked the voice of your beloved Frenchman, closer this time. You placed the trowel down, wiping your dirt dusted hands on your apron, which you proceeded to untie.
“Oui,” you answered again, “Come have a look.”
There was silence, however you heard muffled footsteps on the grass behind you. You turned to look at Jean, but before you had a chance to comprehend anything, you felt Polnareff’s large muscular arms embrace you from behind, followed by his firm torso pressing against your back. Resting his chin upon the top of your head, for the height difference allowed it, he peered down at your handiwork. You felt his chest rumble as he hummed with content, before he leaned down lower to purr in your ear, “C’est belle, ma chérie.” Switching tongues, he continued, his breath tickling your ear, “But, not as beautiful as you.”
You felt your cheeks heat up and a smile grace your features, as he loosened his embrace to allow you to turn around. You looked up to meet his sapphire blue eyes, that sparkled with joy. A wide smile was upon his face as he stared at you, enamoured. Suddenly, you felt his grip tighten as he hoisted you up into the air. You automatically wrapped your legs around his waist, but you knew he was strong enough to hold you up regardless. Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead against his. Wordlessly, he stared deeper into your eyes, before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. His lips were warm and soft, which made a feeling of fiery joy enflamed your chest. You responded to the kiss with a little moan of happiness, kissing him back a little more fervently.
Jean-Pierre chuckled, pulling away from you for a moment, a teasing tone to his handsomely accented voice, “Non, non, non, ma chérie. What is someone walks past and sees us in this passionate moment?”
You laugh lightly, “Then they will think, ‘I wish I had someone like that, that cared for me so.’” His eyes sparkle as you speak and he hums happily in content.
He stares into your eyes for some moments, admiring your features. His lips curl and part, telling you wholeheartedly, “Je t’adore; I love you, and it makes me feel fantastique.”
His words make you feel light with joy, even though it’s not the first or the last time you’ve shared a moment like this. Leaning forward, in his arms, you press a sort kiss to his forehead, “I love you too, Jean-Pierre Polnareff.”
